faderift | [ OPEN ] Well I can't stand to be with myself, this liberation's seemingly rare

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[ OPEN ] Well I can't stand to be with myself, this liberation's seemingly rare

WHO: Zevran and Various
WHAT: Zevran sparring and dealing
WHEN: Throughout Drakonis
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: Violence, swearing, usual Zevran Content Warnings Apply. Open prompt below, poke me on plurk for a closed starter. Prose or actionspam welcome!

As much as he'd protested Alistair running off on some mission in the west- the time apart gives him that much more chance to train. He'd been doing so privately in the barn, occasionally squaring off against Settimo when they both had the time and patience for Settimo's paranoia and Zevran's over-adjustments for the blind side. Learning to fight with only one good eye is slowly driving Zevran to frustration. Settimo could not come at him hard enough to be a challenge, he could not learn his new limitations without a solid effort on both their parts.

Setting aside his vanity he takes to the training grounds- but working on stuffed dummies is only good for so much. Soon enough he is picking out soldiers and rogues to come at him in the dirt circle. Day to day it goes much the same. Zevran stands with bad eye covered and his swords, with his hands, with a single short sword and calls any that would step up to help him regain his awareness. It is, to be honest, slow going. More often than not if his opponent has any manner of skill he ends up on his ass. But he grits his teeth, stands, and goes at it again. And again. Afterward he recovers with the highlight of his training- a bucket of water to sluice off the sweat and grit of the day. Whether it's the relief the cold brings or the appreciative looks it tends to earn? He doesn't say. But thus he spends his days, training himself or wrestling with the fledglings, who will offer their own commentary and catcalling in Antivan during his other matches.

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"Oh? You know...I don't think I have taken the time to thoroughly explore such sensitivities," or exploit, rather, he's attended to Zevran's ears a few times, more in passing than genuine exploration...not that they weren't very fine ears. In fact he rather liked the way they helped him to keep track of his moods, and there was something irresistible about them when they drooped just a little. Particularly when Zevran was making sympathy eyes at him...he was quite easily a sucker for that particular look, "though I should be the only one you say such things to..."

A less honorable person might just log the sensitivity of Zevran's ears away for the sake of finding weaknesses. Sensitive ears could be used as a weakness, like a trick knee could be used as a weakness. Of course that didn't mean sensitive ears couldn't also be a strength for they most certainly could be.

"Blood flow is it?" Michel now completely entrenched in his thoughts raised a hand to stroke delicately along the top of one ear, "I've heard the same could be said about other parts."

Michel had nuzzled them on occasion, dragged his lips and teeth and tongue along them during that one rather bracing encounter in the stables- but a thorough exploration? Zevran had not quite given him the time for it as he had been far more interested in what sensitivities of Michel's he might learn. Speaking of- it was easy enough to evade curious thoughts by letting a hand slide between them, fingers still soaked in oil from their hair, and rub in lazy circles back and forth across Michel's nipple.

Where Michel was honorable enough to not take advantage of such things- Zevran? Had no such scruples. "There are things-"

Oh, and a hand along his ear. Zevran's eyes went half lidded, head tilting into the touch with a shiver. "Mmm...clamps. I have a set in silver and another in gold to be placed wherever we like. Would you be interested in exploring such sensations?"

They might just have to make time for such slow, sensual explorations, wandering hands over limbs, smoothing his way slowly over skin. There was so much he could explore in the slide of his companion's body and he would need the time to indulge in as much. Perhaps catch Zevran off guard? A difficult thing to do when it was the assassin always catching him off guard.

Michel's breath hitched as a nipple was teased into excitement, it often depended on the touch as whether or not Michel could stand to have his nipples teased or if it was just unbearable. He could understand how that worked, granted some parts of the body were rarely toyed with and that often made the difference in his experience. He was new to most of the things Zevran introduced him to, though had his life taken a step just slightly off the path he found himself on, he might have been a different man.

"I..." he controlled the sound of his voice, the pitch of it, even though he couldn't control his breathing entirely...at least not in the visible rise and fall of his chest, "...want to...Zevran..."

There was something in his voice that hinted at an ache and that he was surprised at his companion's readiness. Running his finger over the very tip of the elf's ear, "...that...and more perhaps?"

Early on Michel expressed a wary concern about bringing pain into the bedroom- but this is no great pain like whips and lashes, like bruising and bites aside from those of a man made passionate. This as a slow application of pressure- a gradual pinch that clicked in little by little as Zevran watched Michel's face carefully for any sign of displeasure. Doing with his hand what the clamps would do to his chest- and to anywhere else they might see fit to place them.

Maker, that little hitch, how he leaned into it so subtly, how he ached in his voice-

Trouble, this. And he could not quite talk himself out of exploring it further. Showing Michel all his little tricks, his little toys, teasing him for hours and hours as he seemed all too pleased to ease him back. Zevran went still, biting his bottom lip at the trail of Michel's fingers. When he spoke next his voice was low, throaty. "How much more, Michel? There are a great many toys in my bag of tricks."

If only because he couldn't guarantee pain having much of an effect on his body without conditioning. Though there was something to be said about nipples, they generally were not trained to withstand sensations and were often an ignored place on a man's body regardless. Even Michel had to admit, it wasn't something he thought about outside of the occasional bush of lips or swirl of tongue. The gradual pressure on the prior to ignored buds of flesh drew sound from Michel that was sharper than he might have liked, louder.

He wrapped his hand around Zevran's wrist, not coaxing him off, not encouraging him further, but desperate for something. His voice was low and husky, rough and gritty, "the...bedroom...the bedroom please. The bedroom and anything...we'll do...please."

"We'll have to rinse the oil out first." Zevran leaned in, nosing along Michel's jawline- all idle brushes of lip and warm wash of breath against flushed, fair skin. With little warning he nipped at Michel's earlobe, a sharp nip accompanied by the barest tug of his pinching fingers. Certain sensations could be pleasing and his? this was pushing the unspoken boundary, the edges of comfort Michel seemed to have.

Please. He'd asked sweetly, asked kindly.

Zevran was not so cruel as to deny him. He released Michel's skin with a slow rub of his thumb over the worn flesh, smile not unkind. "Then the bedroom. I'll show you what I have and we can use as many or as little as you like."

He could barely hear Zevran, concentrating more on the seductive path of his lips and the pressure of fingers around his nipple. The sudden piercing sensation of teeth and the subtle tug seemed to have an unexpected and intimate connection to his cock that...he wasn't certain that he wanted his body examining too closely. Not here, and yet he could already feel it

He pulled away from Zevran slowly, sinking into the water up to his shoulders scolding himself for the lack of control he had around the elf. He wasn't entirely certain how long they had left to wait on this hair oil, but for now he was okay here--eyeing his companion from a safe distance, "that...we could experiement, I've no objections."

"Part of this is setting boundaries, Soleil. Know what you will not do, what you might try, what you know you enjoy. I am satisfied with however you let me have you." And it was just that. How Michel let Zevran have him, that was the subtle dynamic Zevran wished to cultivate. One he seemed to be nudging along nicely. Michel did not seem to wish to take the lead in this and for that?

Zevran was relieved. It helped him protect both of them from unwanted sentiment.

"Are you really satisfied with something like that?" If Michel knew more, perhaps he would have taken the lead right out from under Zevran, he remembered how surprised the elf had been in the loft. It was refreshing and it had been a moment of boldness on Michel's part. That he was uncertain in such matters between men and between taking a companion for more than one evening had him narrowing his eyes at the water as if this were somehow it's fault.

As for sentiment, he wasn't at all certain he and Zevran viewed it the same way. The more the elf learned about him, the personal and private things, the more immersed Michel became. The Chevalier was a private man and he'd opened up a great deal to the assassin, that was more intimate a thing that Zevran knew. He wasn't certain how man silent devoted types the elf had met, but at least for the Chevalier that was how it was. He was shy on the inside, reluctant, paranoid of being anything other than a wall to run up against...perhaps his companion did not have the vaguest inkling of what that meant?

"I would not ask anything of you that you found distasteful or would leave you uncomfortable. I am many things, but I am not that manner of a bastard." Every inch of his life was made of managed expectations. In battle, in bed, in friendship. Some things were easier than others to be certain but when one took what one could get and expected nothing more? It made for a simpler, less painful life. "I am not so demanding a lover as to press for more than I am given."

Nor was he one to offer more than he was comfortable handing back. This had become less the teasing, toying thing it had been before and settled more into what he had with Isabela. Some shades of familiarity and friendship with the lovemaking as a pleasing addition. He considered for a moment if he would be comfortable with Michel's company even without the sex- finding that he would? Was surprising.

Michel simply eyed Zevran as if he were some kind of puzzle, something that confused him without end. He'd never expressed any outward adversity toward Michel, toward the Chevalier, and the warrior had never been able to understand it, but he certainly accepted it. Though he couldn't stop thinking...why did he continue to entertain this? For the sex? That was probably the case, not that Michel thought he was all that good in particular with his limited experience. Men had been outside of his realm of expertise until now and things were generally rushed, straightforward, one time. So what was going on here?

Shifting in the water again Michel didn't raise himself out of the water, he still knelt, but he rested his forehead against the elf's knee. He could certainly be comfortable in Zevran's company alone, this had...escalated into something else for him, something he'd tried to put words to at one time. He wasn't at all certain he could be just like Zevran at the end of it all, "I fully intend to give as much as I can..."

"Give as much as you feel safe to give." Anything more- to take all of what Michel might offer-

Zevran shook his head and slid a hand down to comb through Michel's hair. It was a strange posture, this. A knight that knelt at an Elf's side. It was more appealing than he could say, coiled something warm and aching in the pit of his stomach and the depths of his chest. Something sharp edged and dangerous that could not be. He needed to put it from his mind.

Enjoy the game while it lasted and wish for nothing more. "There may be lines you find yourself unwilling to cross- I would rather you be aware of that than to simply say 'everything' and be frustrated with yourself or with me later."

"Frustrated..." Michel glanced up at Zevran curiously, wondering if that's the sort of thought that often rolled around in his thoughts. Is that what kept the both of them at arms length, an underlying fear that somehow there will be frustration, disappointment, resentment. He was already aware that avoiding sentiment was part of what his companion had embedded into the heart of their...entanglement.

"I don't have the same skill set or...tools...but there is something I would like to try with you, someday. A game," the Chevalier did not lift his head from his companion's knee, but he did stroke the backs of his legs. There was a tension between them that he didn't know how to relieve, but the more he opened up to Zevran, the more of the elf he was able to see. Disclosure had helped him along this path.

"Oh? This should be good." Zevran curled his fingers at the nape of Michel's neck, scratching his hair against the grain gently. Little brushes of contact to his fairs skin or oil slick hair, little things that reminded the both of them of the pleasant desire thrumming in their veins.

"Mmm..." Michel wanted to lift his head an explain it, but the fingers in his hair, against his neck, the grazing of his nails. It was all too peasant for him to just want to suddenly remove himself from this comfortable place at his companion's knee. After a moment, however, he forced himself up, flattened himself against Zevran so that he could reach for his clothing behind the elf, groping for something before pulling his hand back.

Object between his fingers, he didn't bring the object into view, running it along Zevran's back and shoulders first, it was cold, metal, and suspiciously coin shaped. And then he brought it in to view, a single gold coin that he pressed against Zevran's nose, "there wasn't a lot of fraternizing between Chevalier for obvious reasons, but when you are young and you share rooms with others there is a little experimenting. I was mostly an observer...but I thought this game was interesting...I don't suppose you know where I am going with this?"

If he didn't have to explain it he could spare himself some needless flustering.

Michel moved close to reach behind and Zevran let his hands slide from nape to shoulders, stroking down the length of Michel's spine to rest at his hips. Lean, lovely things that they were compared to the breadth of his shoulders, fair and any old bruises he'd given the man long since mended.

They might need to fix that. He certainly felt stirred to the occasion.

The coin, now, earned an arched brow, all the more when it was pressed to his nose. The implications here were thick and more than half were unpleasant- Michel did not think to consider what he'd bee, where he'd been born, what he was- what Michel was, how it might look for a Chevalier to press a bit of coin against an elf that held him in an embrace. These thoughts all swirled in his head before he raised his other brow, hands slipping from hips to the swell of his ass, urging him closer still.

"Perhaps you ought to be more specific, so I do not mistake your meaning and displease us both, mm?" Light, easy, teasing as the brush of lips and tongue he presses to the coin.

Michel is stumped momentarily, not only by the question, but by other distractions particularly a very public display of sensuality with hands coasting their way along his body finally settling for his ass. Then there were lips and the barest hint of a tongue, and all of this had him temporarily side tracked. Fortunately it did not stop all of the parts of his brain from functioning like a well structured team and he realized what Zevran was getting at.

"Oh...no, no. No. It's nothing like that...it's not a...no. The coin is part of the game, it is a test of patience and endurance...you press the coin to the wall and hold it there with your nose. Your partner...ah..." well now he was starting to regret this already, he'd hoped Zevran had some knowledge of this game, but he clearly did not. And that caused the heat to creep it's way up, but he fought it down, "...stimulates you...anything just short of..." really? Is he saying this out loud? "...sex. Anyway you drop the coin, you lose...once you've released you switch with your partner...if they drop the coin they lose. If you both endure then you determine the winner based on simple endurance...who held out the longest."

Though what Michel was talking about almost sounded like bondage, but in a mental way. And Maker, don't look at him, in fact he'll make it easy and just kind of pull Zevran against him in an easy embrace, "somehow the rules seem harder to explain in common."

Now that was a game Zevran could get behind- and a great many comparisons might be drawn to a larger, more structured game Zevran knew well. As far as introductory steps to such things went, it was a fair one. And one he knew something of, as it turned out.

"Ah, you mean La pietra e la moneta- There was something similar we did in the Crows." Not with anything near so pleasant but he took Michel's meaning. This version seemed a great deal more enjoyable- but there was one thing he would have to know first. Or rather, several somethings.

"The rules are you can do anything shy of sex, yes?" He tipped his thighs further apart, hooking his legs about Michel's to hold him close. "You might, perhaps, have to define what you mean by this. No penetration? No kissing your skin? No biting?"

Lazy and slick with oil his hands smoothed small circles along Michel's hips, trailing idle paths until he slipped one finger down the crease, teasing at his entrance. "No licking you here? What would be allowed and what would not?"

"Hmm? Stone...and coin?" Michel did not speak Antivan, no, but Orlesian was similar enough at times that he could extrapolate when things sounded similar. Though if they did something similar in the Crows Michel wasn't quite so certain he wanted to know about it. Not that he was entirely interested with Zevran throwing him completely off his balance. At first he had the impression that Zevran as completely disinterested in doing anything here, in full view of others, but the path of his hands and the way he hooked his legs around Michel might have suggested otherwise.

There was a sort of possession in the way he touched Michel with liberty, with entitlement. The Chevalier made to keep himself steady and still, but he couldn't stop himself from smothering his moans against Zevran's shoulder, open-mouthed-kisses, teeth raking over flesh, gently catching skin trying to suppress a groan as that finger exploits him intimately. It was difficult to hold his attention on what the elf was saying while not wanting to crawl over him at the same time, "penetration..." Michel murmured into Zevran's neck at last, "...for argument's sake."

"Mhmm. If you are as stone you do not drop the coin. Of course it can bet quite difficult to hold fast should you be overwhelmed." Zevran had learned and learned well- the most important lesson was to make the other Crow fail before he was ever put to the wall. But this? Far more enticing, far more enjoyable, especially with all the lovely skin he could tease and bite and touch.

No penetration did not make for many limitations and Zevran- well. He preferred to understand specifics. His voice was low and warm as he murmured into Michel's hair, finger dipping inside even as they agreed upon the rule. "Not with fingers or tongue or toys? I think I might be able to keep to that. It will be a trial, however, with how beautifully you take such things."

But he would be able to touch, to tease, much like he did now though not quite so far. They weren't alone but the steam and distance from the others in the springs was enough for him to be so bold, the warm coiling heat in his gut a reminder that like this? Michel was his. It would never cease to thrill him how the Chevalier simply let him touch, let him take.

"Hmmm...similar concept...can't imagine it ending the same way," nor did he really wish to.

And was there any room to think about talk that wasn't very intimate when Zevran was clearly being very intimate. His body surged up as a finger teased its way inside. A small voice in the back of his mind was chiding him very sternly about their location, being seen, touched wrapped up so completely. A small part of him almost regretted that penetration also meant the absence of Zevran's tongue, that had been...and obscure...pleasant experience, "then...we have our rules..."

For another time perhaps. With the way he was being teased right now, however, Michel found himself climbing up to the edge with Zevran, knees on either side of his companion's thighs. Enough coaxing, he couldn't resist being right here, fingers threading through his companion's hair, lips bearing down against Zevran's mouth. His propriety forgotten for a moment. He was hungry for more than the teasing of such a game and since the elf insisted of being so bold he would take advantage.

"Agreed. Perhaps later-" He was, cruel thing that he could be, going to withdraw his hand and leave it at that, a teasing peck to Michel's lips and a long, aching walk back up to his rooms to finish. But he had no chance for that and he could not quite complain. Not when he had Michel so eager and aching straddling his lap, claiming his mouth. Zevran chuckled low in his throat as he tipped his head back to give Michel the better angle for the kiss, oil slick fingers taking advantage of how the stance left Michel open for a deeper stroke of his fingers, for a sharper twist of his wrist.

If they were to do this, he would do it thoroughly, properly.

He braced his other hand in the small of Michel's back to support him, give him a solid point of leverage should he wish to grind his hips down or lean back for a better angle. Or to show off- but Zevran was coming around to the realization that Michel did not perform such gestures simply because it never occurred to him to use his body in that way.

A modest awareness of his beauty. It was a marvel.

It might have been better if they broke away from this, ended with a discreet kiss, rinsing the oil from their hair instead. Wisdom and lust, however, rarely shared the same space and the elf already had him stirring, excited, calm as he was trying to appear. He bore down into the kiss, trying to ease some of that tension, express it through the medium of their lips, swallow that chuckle and drown out his own soft sounds--tongue dipping into his companion's mouth to taste as much as he could. Devouring until his lungs started to burn for air, shuddering against the sensation of Michel's finger and wondering offhandedly when he'd come to enjoy this just as much as he enjoyed taking Zevran.

Bowing so that his forehead was pressed to Zevran's shoulder he adjusted his hips, rolling them down smoothly, trying to be subtle and probably failing at it. He wasn't overly aware of his body and he didn't know how to put on a show really, he simply did the things that came natural. His lips found the curve of a shoulder, teeth carefully dragging, catching, tugging skin in an effort to keep himself quiet. He alternated between the sharp contrast of this and the soft brush of his lips peppering kisses along the column of Zevran's neck to his ear.

"Deeper..." he whispered, it was for Zevran only and the appeal was accompanied by a gentle tug at the lobe with his lips. He really was quite fascinated, "...harder..." ah, he knew Zevran could only accomplish so much with his finger, but Michel demanded all the same.

"Ask sweetly." Not that he wouldn't. Not that he wasn't. He gave Michel exactly what he asked for, a deeper stroke of his fingers, a harder press upon that crackling glad as requested. He was feeling terribly indulgent at the moment and how could he not be with Michel's hips working down in slow, smooth circles. A Chevalier, after all, knew how to ride. Zevran wondered if sex was ever included in those lessons as allegory or an alternative means of practice.

Considered again the stoicism that they all held so dear, the quiet, unassuming nature of Michel in the bedroom. Quick and furtive and occasionally bruising. Never, ever something easy to enjoy. To savor.

He tilted his head to the side to bare more of his throat and shoulder to Michel's wandering mouth, groaned, body twitching at the bite to his ear. As expected Michel was exploiting the weakness in the most decadent way possible. Zevran couldn't mind it. Did not. It stirred him all the more, cock hard and twitching against Michel's thigh as he worked a second finger in...and stopped thrusting quite so hard, quite so deep, wrist still so Michel might work himself all on his own. "That's it, Soleil. Slow, steady. Show me how you ride."

He was prepared to, ready to plea for more if that's what it took to get what he needed from Zevran. Part of him was still aware of where they were and desired to end this quickly...and the other part simply desired. Fortunately he did not have to plea for his needs, not yet, his companion gave him exactly what he wanted encouraging the Chevalier to move with purpose.

As Zevran might have surmised sex was not included in the teaching regimen at the Academie des Chevaliers, as neither an allegory or an alternative. Not that he would mind it terribly if Zevran brought up sex and riding.

Not that he had time to think of much beyond satisfaction and keeping himself manageably quiet. Hand cradling the elf's jaw as he tipped his head to the side giving Michel access to his neck and ear. Exposed flesh only made it easier to redirect his soft sex cries and low growls, grounding it into skin.

And then he slowed to a near stop at the presence of a second finger and while Michel did not protest he exhaled sharply, withdrawing just a bit to gaze down at Zevran quizzically. For a moment he wasn't sure what was happening, it took a moment for the demand to register before the warrior, the gentle coaxing that gave him pause and had him wanting.

And submitting to what Zevran desired as well. It had been some time since he last found himself in this position and then his companion had put in more of the...riding effort. Closing his eyes and bracing his hand against the elf's shoulder, he responded with a deep roll of his hips, pulling him in deeper, guiding those fingers to touch him precisely, drowning out his groans by bowing his head against his shoulder.

Just as putting himself on display in a public place was foreign, so was this.

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ombranera - 2016-04-03 04:15 (UTC) - Expand

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[ OPEN ] Well I can't stand to be with myself, this liberation's seemingly rare

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belated NSFW warning

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